{not for nothing…}

I know I am a little late getting this out there but, I can’t get it out of my head and I have lectured my husband on it several times now and he is sick of agreeing with me.

All those people who are buying guns at a record pace would do better to put that money into a retainer on a lawyer.  It is not the government kicking in your door that you have to worry about, because why in the name of all that is holy would the government kick in your door when every person over the age of 5 has a cell phone with a camera.  It would end up on most major news outlets within the hour, maybe even Fox News (depending on who is in office).

It would be messy, nasty and a horrendous PR nightmare.  Now don’t get me wrong, if you have committed some major crime, no problem, go get ’em.  But just sending armed men to kick in your door because you don’t think they way they do.  Nope, not going to happen.

Not when they have the IRS.

I am telling you, the best defense against an intrusive government is a really good tax attorney.

Also, I think that if the founding fathers had written the Constitution in this day and age, they would have granted us the right to a computer and the Internet.

That is the best defense against a corrupt government.

The government is far more afraid of the hacker group Anonymous, than of any armed militia.

Bad press trumps everything.

I say all this from my computer in a town about 20 min outside of Dallas, TX.  I understand the gun culture, and have been surrounded by it all my life.  I don’t understand why some of my nearest and dearest family don’t get it.

I suppose holding a laptop doesn’t hold the same romance as holding a Smith & Wesson.  Facing down your foe with evil youtube videos isn’t as satisfying to them.

They don’t understand that gunshot wounds heal and even death is final.  Screwing with someone’s mind lasts much, much longer.

Especially if you publish evil pictures of them on the internet.

And if you mess with their credit, well…

I’m just sayin’.


{my freak flag is misspelled…it says geek}

I have always been a geek.

I have not always known it.

I wasn’t an outcast in school, but I was on the D or E list.  The person you talked to because you sat by me or because no one else was around.  I was the girl who had guys develop slight crushes on me because of my personality.  Yeah, I was THAT girl.

I had curly, fuzzy hair in an age where there was no mousse.  I have school pictures that are the stuff of nightmares.  I had learning disabilities that put me in “special classes”.  I read quite a bit and had anxiety disorder that cause me to sometimes end up in the office before school started because I would plead not to have to go.  All things that label you for life, that and we didn’t have a lot of money so once in a blue moon I could take part in a clothing trend (guess jeans any one?) but I was late to the party so it made little impact.

Coming late to the party would be a pattern in my life.

I take comfort in the fact that the converted are always more zealous than those born to it.

Elementary school, Middle school and most of High school don’t hold alot of fond memories.  It wasn’t until high school and I found drama class that things changed.  I was in all the special choirs for PTA programs and such in elementary, and I was in 1 year of choir in middle school.  They put me in a special class (yet again) in my 7th grade year that I REALLY didn’t need, so choir was not possible that year.  I am still bitter about that (the teacher even questioned why I was in that class.  I was leaps and bounds ahead of everybody in the room).  So choir was not the gateway to acceptance that you might think.

That gateway was drama.  Let me be clear, even in this I was a geek.  I would have cut my throat before I sat foot on a stage in front of an audience (mandatory stint as a nun in the chorus of Sound of Music not withstanding). Yes, I was in Technical Theater class.  A stage hand.  A crew geek.

I had found my tribe.  These people, with exceptions of course, didn’t really care what other people thought.  We were allowed to be weird.  In the terms of mid-eighties suburban Texas anyway.  I was inducted into the Thespian society, but if anyone asked, it was explained to them that we were being abducted by the lesbian society.  The stories I could tell, but what happens backstage, stays backstage.  In short I was accepted in a way that I had never experienced before.  I was beginning to recognize that although I passed, I was not quite the automaton that others were.  I was just on the inside of acceptance.

If I knew then what I know now, I would have been a full blown bohemian.  Art and writing and bad poetry would have been abundant.  I did write poetry, that is how I know exactly how bad it would have been.

The point of all of this is that I have been longing for something all my life.  We all do I know, I just didn’t know that it would be tardis blue.  Or making stories about other peoples characters.  Or realizing that I am not alone in all this wonderment.  That now, at 44 (again with the party and arriving late) I am finding out that I have a tribe, a vast, welcoming, exuberant tribe.

And the fact that I can sit and have a serious conversation about Harry Potter for 3 hours is not a waste of time.  That discussing the core differences between Batman and Superman and how the latest movies makers did or did not get it is a valid use of an hour.  And passionately telling you that Joss Whedon changed my life is not only not pathetic, it is a sentiment that is shared everywhere.

I have always been a geek.

I have not always known it.

Not only do I know it now, I revel in it.

Avengers made 200 mil. this weekend.  Now we’re the ones that are cool.


{F@#&ing precipice…again}

One of my favorite visuals is being on a precipice.  On the verge of something, trying to make the leap to a new and glorious whatever.  The image moves me.  It just does.  I have written poetry using it.  It was in a vampires voice but I wrote it none the less.

There have been several times in my life I have felt myself on said precipice, looking down into what could be the abyss or could be the above mentioned new and glorious whatever.  I never seem to make the leap.  I can never seem to find the courage, or the energy to just push on.  Fling myself headlong into the rest of my life.

You see,  if  I was utterly miserable, I think I could do it.   And I know this it totally a first world problem.  A lower middle class, whinny, can’t seem to find herself sort of thing.  But just as with everyone, my problem are very real to me.  That being said, I am not utterly miserable.  I have a job that is creative (florist), with people that I like most of the time.  I have a husband that I actually like, and that really is my best friend.  I suffer from depression, and anxiety mixed in with a low self esteem.  Nothing that a lot of other people don’t deal with on a daily basis.

My depression is not some special sort of concoction that stems from some horrible event in my life.  My Mom was broken and she broke me too.  My Dad left me early (I was 18).  I have mild dyslexia and ADD.  My chemicals are not quite right, but not so screwed up that I have to constantly take pills to even me out. I might have been molested at a young age, but I suspect he just made me so uncomfortable that the discomfort at being in his presence never left me.

I am over weight.  Morbidly so, but I don’t have high cholesterol or high blood pressure.  My doctor has not said anything about diabetes, even though it does run in my Mother’s side of the family.  I am peri-menopausal and hormones are running rampant though my system.  But I am not that miserable.

I am just not happy.

I am the poster child for a very mundane sort of dysfunction.

So, here I am again.  At that fucking precipice.  Feeling like something is going to happen, but I don’t know what.  The sad part is that I am so comfortable in my mild miserable state that I am scared to push into something else.  I have issues with safety.  The deep down safety that means a stable life, and that you can pay your bills by yourself.   Safety that means that you don’t have to add to your already free floating anxiety which you can’t quite put a name on.

I am not sure if happy is what I should be aiming for.  Happy is the up in a cycle.  Content maybe.  But part of the problem is that I am content in the quasi-misery.  I don’t know, I have never been one for radical moves.  I am not what you would call a conformist either, but I try to do things that make sense to me.  But what if I have been molded in to what society thinks a morbidly over weight person should be.  God, it makes my head spin to think of all this stuff.

I am tempted to say I just want to be me, but I read somewhere that that statement is one of the most inane in the world because you are who you are.  You are always who you are.  I guess I want to be someone stronger than me.  Someone who takes more risks.  I want to be the person I see in my minds eye when I think of me.  Of coarse that would be half the woman that I am today.  Literally.

Life is hard.  No, wait, living life if hard.  I don’t want to be the person that lets life beat me down.  And I do make periodic forays in to doing things that make me furiously happy(thank you Jenny from the blog!).

But most of the time, I sit in my semi-misery and talk to myself about how I need to change, knowing that I am doing nothing but talking to someone who is only half listening.


{the pin it factor}

Do you pin?

You don’t?

You don’t know what  pinning is?

Let me explain.  There is this site called Pinterest.  It is the internet version of crack.  The site is a way to keep track of interesting things you find on the internet, as well as a way to pass them on.  You register with Pinterest, you get a little button on your browser that says pin it, and away you go.  You set up boards, or groups, to organizing the things you pin. Find the most amazing picture of Doctor Who you have ever seen?  Pin it.  You enter a description, then direct which board you wish it to go to, for me that would be “All things Doctor” and shazam, saved for eternity.  Best part?  It also saves the website you found it on.

The next bit is what is really brilliant.  Then it also gets posted so everyone can see it.  And repin it to their boards.  This also means that you can see what everyone else has pinned and post their stuff to your board.  I have learned to make my own clothes detergent.  My own febreeze.  Cool stuff.  If you find someone with the same twisted sensibilities as you, you can follow one or all of  their boards a la Twitter.

It is amazing.  You can sit for 3 hours, and do nothing but click your mouse, but you will feel like you have been SO creative. The backlash for me is that for every geek post,

for every funny saying,

for every pair of fabulous shoes

there is also a motivational poster of some kind.  All, I am sure, aimed at me.  Telling me I should be running.  I never run.  Ever.  Okay, if I was trying to get out of the way of a speeding car, maybe.  But apparently there are alot of people out there running.  And they need alot of motivation.  And I should wish I was one of them.

I don’t.  I really, really, don’t.

Of course, this nugget of wisdom is usually accompanied by a recipe that involves pasta and an inhuman amount of cheese.  Or some sort of chocolate thing.   Or some sort of beautiful, lovely, tasty delight involving Nutella.  Or some sort of cupcake.

Cupcakes are something I can get behind.  Which is why I have this waifish figure.

I do highly recommend pinterest if you are not already an addict.  You can discover things on the web you might have never known exsisted.  And I love any thing that can painlessly introduce you to the unknown.

Especially if it can teach you how you make your own laundry detergent for pennies a load.

And you know, cupcakes!